


Worse Than Cheating

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2017 [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: When Edward begins acting evasive, loses interest in their sex life, and spends more and more time with Lucius Fox, Oswald comes to the natural conclusion. Edward is cheating on him. Unfortunately, the reality is far worse.





	Worse Than Cheating

**Author's Note:**

> I don't wanna spoil anything, it's so short. Just know it's gonna be okay!

“You’re not going to miss another appointment, right?” Edward sighs into the phone, twirling the cord as he listens to his nemesis chastise him about taking care of his mental health.

“No, Foxy, I will not miss another appointment. I told you, it was a one off. The Bat got the drop on me and totally ruined Monday’s itinerary. I had to reschedule my entire week around the setback.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be antagonizing him during your recovery,” Lucius gently points out.

“I haven’t been! At least, I didn’t intend to. He got the wrong impression about my digging into the Wayne murders. I have nothing against Bruce Wayne, but I believe the organization behind the murders has more reach than we can even imagine. How can I _not_ pry into a mystery of that magnitude?”

“You’re still on about the Court of Owls, Ed?”

“ _Not_ the Court of Owls. The organization which ran and subsequently _slaughtered_ the Court for slipping up. The same organization which authorized the Wayne murders, has been secretly running Gotham since it’s foundation, and— get _this_ — is allegedly the source of a seriously ancient power. The kind of power that can make a man—” Edward cuts himself off, a riddle coming to mind. “Hey, Foxy. _Riddle me this_ : Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show we always will meet. Try as you might to guess my name, I promise you’ll know when you I do claim.”

“Death?”

“ _Bingo_. It’s said that they have the power to cheat death. A group of immortals.”

“Is that something you’re personally interested in? Cheating death?” Lucius probes. Edward quiets at this.

“I might be finding myself more sensitive to the passage of time,” Edward admits. “But not exactly for my own sake.”

“Is Oswald unwell?” Lucius asks, genuine concern in his tone. It’s part of the reason Edward likes him.

“No, I may be unwell,” Edward says, keeping his voice down. “I collapsed the other day. Oswald found me in the kitchen. His reaction… it made me think about what it would do to him if I should— if something were to— he doesn’t deserve to lose anyone else,” Edward says, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eye sockets. “I scheduled an MRI.”

“You’re seeking to make yourself immortal… for Oswald’s sake? Are you sure about that, Ed?”

“Yes, I don’t… I love him very much, Lucius. I don’t know that I’d _want_ to live for very long without being by his side. Perhaps a little while, tie up loose ends…” he trails off. “Besides, it’s possible this source may only have regenerative abilities, and that the prolonged use is what leads to the immortality. I mean, I’m not even sure it exists. This is all purely hypothetical. Perhaps I won’t even need to really utilize it, it can just be a fun mystery.”

“When’s your MRI?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“I could go with you?” Lucius offers. Edward swallows, imagining his reaction if he had to be alone when presented with a worst-case scenario. He thinks it would be pathetic.

“I’d appreciate that,” Edward says. Oswald strolls in, and Edward decides that he should probably end this call. “Oswald, did you want to say hello to Lucius?”

“Is that your way of telling me that Oswald is in the room and you’re done talking?” Lucius deduces.

“Righty-o,” Edward says, tilting his head up for a kiss.

“I’d prefer not to,” Oswald says, once he’s successfully out of range of the phone.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Lucius says.

“Later, Foxy,” Edward drawls, hanging up the phone. Oswald immediately crowds him, pushing between his legs and kissing him.

“Hello, darling,” Oswald purrs, pulling Edward’s robe loose.

“You’re eager,” Edward says, letting him.

“What were you two gossiping about?” Oswald asks, kissing his neck. Edward gasps.

“Therapy, Batman, a secret immortal cult,” Edward sighs as Oswald kisses his throat. “You know, the usual.”

“Sounds pretty typical,” Oswald says, throwing his jacket over the couch and ripping his tie loose before diving in for more heated kisses.

“Lucius was concerned that I missed my appointment, I told him about what happened.” Oswald freezes in place, then slowly hovers over Edward. “He’s going with me to get an MRI tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Oswald says, as though believing it hard enough will somehow ensure that Edward is fine. “I don’t want to talk about it until it’s done with, alright?”

“Alright,” Edward says, knowing that it’s killing Oswald to wait. The uncertainty is also bothering him. Oswald kisses him again.

“Lucius was inquiring about your well-being,” Edward says, thinking it’s something Oswald might find interesting.

“I _definitely_ don’t want to talk about him, either,” Oswald says, leaving a punishing bite on Edward’s shoulder. They don’t talk very much at all after that.

***

Edward dissolves into hysterics when he gets the news. He’s glad Lucius is there, and also highly embarrassed by his lack of control.

A brain tumor. Inoperable.

It just isn’t fair.

He’s trying to reign himself in. Just because Lucius had offered to be a shoulder to cry on did not mean he was willing to have his suit jacket soaked through with snot and tears. Edward requests a sedative and is denied, and for some reason that makes him cry harder. Lucius is very good at hugging— soothing over Edward’s back with his large hands— but Edward wants Oswald. 

The doctors talk to him about treatments that will prolong his life, always referring to him as ‘Mr. Nygma’. He doesn’t want to do any of them, but he agrees. They’ll start the first round now, because the cancer is aggressive and he probably has about six months to live. Edward wonders if he’ll be able to schedule his funeral arrangements in advance to make it easier on Oswald and misses what the doctor just said.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“You’ll need to update your next of kin, Mr. Nygma. We don’t have anyone for you.” Edward swallows. Oswald is the obvious choice, but he doesn’t want him to know about this. When the Doctor passes him the papers, he hesitates.

“When will you contact them?”

“When you’re unable to yourself,” the doctor says. That’s fine. He puts Oswald’s information down.

They give him injections and tell him about all the symptoms he may experience, and Lucius drives him home. Edward yells at him to pull over five minutes from the manor, throwing up into someone’s hedges. He waits a minute before getting back in the car, and Lucius drives so slowly is takes them six minutes instead of five. He puts the car in park and grabs Edward’s wrist before he can leave.

“You have to tell him, Edward. He deserves to know, and he needs time to… to prepare.”

“I will,” Edward promises, lying through his teeth.

***

He hides his symptoms well, and Lucius drives him to all his appointments. Edward can tell he’s operating less efficiently. Work that used to take a minute takes two. Crosswords leave him with answers on the tip on his tongue he cannot recall, sitting on the edge of his cortex. He forgets to get the mail, and he forgets to call Oswald and tell him he loves him before an important meeting, like he always does. Oswald tries to get him in the mood for sex and he can’t get it up. He knows it’s the drugs, but Oswald doesn’t.

The last straw comes a month after his diagnosis, on their anniversary. Oswald proposes.

“Edward, I love you. I know that I’ll never find someone like you for as long as I live, and I want you to be my husband. Will you marry me?” Edward bursts into tears and shakes his head, covering his face with his hands. “Ed? What’s the matter, love?”

Oswald draws him into his arms, shushing him and rocking him.

“I can’t marry you,” Edward gasps into his ear. Oswald recoils.

“You… you can’t or you won’t?”

“Yes. Both. No. Oswald, you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly well, now,” Oswald says, his voice growing cold. “For the past month, you’ve been cheating on me with _Lucius Fox_.” Edward’s eyes widen at the accusation. From Oswald’s perspective, it made sense, but for him to honestly think that Edward would ever cheat on him… it’s painful to hear.

“It’s worse than that,” Edward says, his voice going quieter.

“What?” Oswald says, confusion overtaking his features.

“It’s worse than cheating, Oswald. I— I haven’t been truthful with you.”

“Tell me,” Oswald says, taking Edward’s hands into his own and sitting beside him on their couch.

“Do you remember the MRI I took last month?” Oswald nods, his face growing fearful. “I lied when I said the results showed that I has fine. I lied when I said that the doctors believed I had just been dehydrated. The MRI showed that I have a brain tumor.” Oswald’s lip quivers, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“How long?”

“Five months, now.” Oswald’s composure breaks.

“Five months? You have five months left and you didn’t tell me?” Oswald spits. “I should have been with you. I should resign. Having you been getting treated?”

“Yes,” Edward confesses, “That’s where I’ve been going with Lucius.”

“I’ve spent the past month worried you were cheating on me and you’re _dying_. I should have been taking you to those appointments, Edward. _Me._ Why didn’t you tell me? Were you ever going to?”

“I’ve been working on an alternate solution. I was going to tell you… if it didn’t pan out or when half my time was up. Whichever came first.”

“I can’t believe you,” Oswald whispers. “You would have given me a two month warning? I love you, Edward. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and you were going to give me _two months_ to accept that we’ll never have that?”

“I’m sorry,” Edward says, tears welling in his eyes. He blinks them back for Oswald’s sake. “I didn’t want you to agonize over it if I could find another way.” Oswald pulls him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I know you did what you thought was best. I shouldn’t be angry with you, not when— not when there’s so little time left.” Oswald sobs, pressing his face into Edward’s neck.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Edward suggests. It will be more comfortable to cry together on their bed. Once there they lay on their sides, hugging one another and crying until they fall asleep. In the morning, Oswald dresses like he’s going to battle and uses his best eyeliner. Edward considers warning Lucius, but he’s too tired. He rolls out of bed and dresses haphazardly, not bothering to put any product in his hair. Oswald is reading the paper on the couch by the time he gets down, and Edward pulls it aside so he can sit across Oswald’s lap, hugging him around his middle and leaning his head on his chest.

“Are you still mad at me?” Edward asks, speaking to Oswald’s pocket square.

“Not at you, no. But I have a few choice words for Mr. Fox.”

“He thought I told you, Oswald. I’m sorry.” Oswald sighs and sets the paper aside, hugging Edward and dropping a kiss on his hair.

“Is there anyone I _can_ be angry with?”

“You can be angry with the tumor in my head.”

***

When Lucius arrives, Oswald doesn’t say anything, he just opens the back door for Edward and follows him in. He holds Edward on the ride there, then he holds his hand when the doctors come and speak with him, and when they pump him full of chemicals. He’s there when they announce that Edward’s prognosis is worse.

“I know you were expecting to have more time,” the doctor says, addressing them both. “I’m afraid you only have about another three months, maybe less at the rate this thing is growing. It’s just not responding to the drugs. I’m sorry. You should start making the necessary arrangements.”

Edward breaks down again into tears, and Oswald holds him through it. He’s glad Oswald is here. He’s sorry Oswald is here.

Lucius drives them home while Oswald consoles him and holds him. Edward doesn’t remember walking from the car to the house, but he’s on top of Oswald on the couch when he wakes up. Oswald is watching him.

“Did you carry me?” Edward asks, nuzzling into his chest.

“I did,” Oswald confirms. “You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“I don’t want to die,” Edward says, the words bubbling forth before he can stop them. His voice cracks, and he starts to cry again.

“You’re not going to die,” Oswald says, the same certainty in his voice that had made Edward fall in love with him. “Tell me about your contingency plan.”

***

Oswald asks Edward if he would have said yes to marrying him if it weren’t for the tumor. Edward says he absolutely would, but he won’t make Oswald a widower so soon after a wedding. It’s enough for Oswald, and he insists that Edward wear the engagement ring he purchased. He says it isn’t meant for anyone else. Edward often gazes at it and feels sorry for himself, particularly lately, when just getting out of bed makes his stomach sick. He hasn’t been able to do much research on foot; Oswald has taken over that department. Lucius has been helpful with the legal things Edward must get in order before he dies. He’s almost ready to go.

“Edward,” Oswald calls, coming up the stairs, “we need to go.”

“What’s the rush?” Edward says, standing with a wince.

“Batman owes us big time and it’s paying off, come on,” Oswald says, tugging him out of their room. Edward is still wearing his pajamas.

“Oswald, I need to change—“

“It doesn’t matter, this could be our only opening.”

“Was it where I thought it was?” Edward asks, managing to stall Oswald long enough to put on shoes.

“Yes, and I happened to notice the flying rat following me,” Oswald sneers.

“You mean—?“

“He was waiting for you to find the center of this mysterious cult,” Oswald confirms, opening the passenger door for Edward and closing it behind him. He gets in the driver’s side. “That’s why he broke into your hideout, I’ll wager. He must have thought you already had.”

“That’s why he owes us, but how is it paying off?” Edward asks, buckling his seatbelt.

“It turns out that the owners and operators of this resource aren’t exactly a bunch of hippies. They call themselves the League of Assassins.”

“Sounds friendly,” Edward remarks. “This must be where that favor comes in.”

“The name of the power you’re been researching is the Lazarus Pit,” Oswald tells him. “The Bat has no interest in it, but he knows why you are. As we speak, he’s gearing up to face off against the League and its leader.”

“Giving us the most opportune time to get in and out without being killed,” Edward says. “But, Oswald. I doubt it’s going to be unguarded just because the Bat is fighting them.”

“That’s the second part of the favor. He’s sending Robin with us,” Oswald says. Edward gapes at him.

“We’re babysitting the boy wonder?” Edward asks.

“Actually, he’s babysitting us.”

***

It’s about an hour drive upstate, into the mountains outside of Gotham City. Oswald takes a gun out of the glove compartment and checks that it’s loaded, putting it in his jacket pocket. Edward steps out of the car, shivering. Oswald moves the gun to the small of his back and puts it in the waistband of his trousers, taking off his suit jacket and giving it to Edward. Oswald really should have let him change.

“You’re late,” the Bat says, crunching across the ground towards them.

“I didn’t want to get pulled over for speeding,” Oswald jests. “Where’s the kid?”

“Hiya!” Robin says, dropping out of a tree. He looks Edward up and down. “You look… different.”

“Well, it’s either the fact that I’m in my pajamas, or that I look like a walking corpse,” Edward deadpans. “Could be a combination thereof, as well.”

“What’s the plan?” Oswald asks, putting a hand on Edward’s back. He’d been insecure about his appearance of late, and the boy blunder is not helping.

“Robin is taking you in while I go after Ra’s.”

“Ra’s?” Edward interrupts.

“The leader of the League of Assassins,” Robin chimes in.

“Why are you helping me?” Edward says, stepping up to the Bat.

“I… I regret my attitude towards your investigation into the League. Perhaps if I had been more forthcoming and worked with you rather than spying on you and disrupting your research, this day would have come sooner.”

“Is this your version of an apology? Is Batman apologizing to _me_?” Edward says, cackling and turning towards Oswald.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Batman growls, stomping off into the distance. It’s just not as dramatic as grappling away off a building, and gets another giggle out of Edward. It feels good to laugh.

***

Oswald shoots an assassin point blank in the head when things get too crowded, but Robin manages to handle himself against the other enemies they encounter. When they reach the pit, it’s unmistakable.

It’s a pool in the ground, glowing green. There’s an electric crackle in the air, and it smells like ozone. Edward hands Oswald his jacket, then strips. Oswald can see every one of his ribs, the eerie green highlighting them and casting shadows in between. He hands Oswald his glasses.

“Here goes nothing,” Edward says, and descends into the pool. Oswald counts the vertebrae of his spine as they disappear into the water, praying for a miracle. The water bubbles and fizzes, and the moment Edward peeks his head out of the water, Oswald can tell it’s worked. His eyes aren’t as sunken, his hair is thick and dark, and his lips are no longer dry and chapped. He steps out of the water and starts to dress, still thin, but no longer dangerously so. He slips his shoes on and comes over to take his glasses from Oswald, putting them on.

“You look younger,” Oswald says, trying to find those familiar crow’s feet and laughter lines.

“I feel younger,” Edward says. He holds his hand up to the light, letting his ring catch it. “This fits better.”

Oswald takes Edward’s hand and tilts it from side to side, noting how the ring is now more flush to his fingers, no longer threatening to slip off. Robin approaches the pit, taking a vial from his utility belt and filling it.

“This wasn’t just because Bruce is remorseful for his assumption, is it?” Oswald asks.

“That speech about being sorry he delayed you? Totally genuine, he just omitted bit,” Robin says. “We’ve had— we’ve had some bad luck. If we’d been able to locate this sooner… Anyways, Br- Batman needed Riddler to find the pit, and you did. Letting you come with me was easier than risking you ruining our operation and alerting the assassins to my mission.”

“I think we should get out of here,” Edward says, taking Oswald’s hand. “Then we can part ways.”

“Good idea,” Oswald says.

***

They don’t say anything to the Bat when they meet back in the clearing. They get in their car, the dynamic duo hop in the Batmobile, and it’s over.

Just like that.

It doesn’t hit Edward until he walks through the front door. He isn’t going to die. Oddly enough, rather than jumping around in elation, he finds himself clinging to Oswald and collapsing onto the floor. The relief overwhelms him as he cries, Oswald joining him in producing happy tears.

“I suppose I’ll have to marry you after all,” Edward says, hugging Oswald tightly to him.

“I suppose you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking: "Did Lucius twist Bruce's arm into helping?" you are absolutely correct. What did you think? By the way, I know cancer is a touchy subject, but in the comics Edward has suffered from this illness before (alone) and used the Lazarus Pit to save himself. I wanted to put a nygmobblepot spin on the tale. Hopefully I'm not wildly inaccurate.


End file.
